


vienna blood

by downthedarkpath



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ballroom, Cute, Dancing, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, James (TFTSMP), M/M, Masquerade, Romance, Slice of Life, The Masquerade, liaria (tftsmp), sebastian (tftsmp), sir billiam III (tftsmp)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29293287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downthedarkpath/pseuds/downthedarkpath
Summary: “A man like me?”“A man like you,” James repeats. He spins once, twice, thrice, before placing his hand back on Karl’s shoulder and pulling them into another step. “Well dressed. High class. Good looking. You do fit a stereotype, you know.”Karl laughs. He tries not to let show how out of place he is here; these are not steps he’s walked before.
Relationships: Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 70
Kudos: 404





	vienna blood

**Author's Note:**

> god i have no idea how to tag this. its using the characters from 'the masquerade' episode of tales from the smp, thus sap's character is called james. 
> 
> inspired by this [beautiful artwork](https://twitter.com/voicefulshelf68/status/1357441684322271245) by yoana, who is an absolute delight (ilysm). 
> 
> title is from [vienna blood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSQrGAQZM5Y), because i spent so long looking for a dance and music to copy/listen to respectively and FOUND NONE. either way, good song.

Karl stands on the edge of the ballroom floor. Billiam’s butler had provided them with wine on tap, but Karl has yet to work his way through his first glass yet. He feels immeasurably nervous, and he’s not sure why. When runs his tongue along the back of his teeth, and tastes sweet wine and fear, he doesn’t know what he’s scared of, but it’s sour and sharp and ugly.

The lighting is low, barely there at all except for hanging candelabras and flickering flames. He sighs, swirling the wine in his glass. It leaves watery red shadows on the rim, and Karl finds himself staring at them in place of watching Billiam’s other guests.

He feels out of place here. The clothes he wears don’t quite fit right. He trips on the cloak everytime he takes a step. The mask he’d arrived with, stiff silk and gold embroidery, hadn’t felt like his own. He holds the glass as steady as he can, sips it once and can barely swallow.

There’s music playing from somewhere. It seems to follow him, never getting any quieter. Karl doesn’t recognise the song.

Liaria and Sebastian are dancing together. Karl watches the way her dress swirls and swells with the music. It looks beautiful under the candle flame. He wonders where they both learnt to dance, watching the way Sebastian leads Liaria through the steps like they could read one another’s minds.

Oliver sits at the wine bar, steadily working his way through the wine stocks. The butler seems to have given up on filling a new glass, and instead provided him with the full bottle. Karl can almost see the way Oliver’s eyes grow fuzzier, and his movements less coordinated. He pities whoever ends up dancing with him.

Billiam stands at the opposite side of the floor to him. He seems to be watching too, but Karl can’t help but feel uncomfortable whenever his eyes land on him. It’s like he’s waiting for something to happen, to go wrong. Like surveillance. He’s holding a glass too, but his hasn’t been touched once. In his other hand, he has a candle holder, and wax drips over the lip onto Billiam’s hand. He has no reaction. Karl doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Karl, right?”

He turns to see James standing there, just close enough. He looks rough, that sort of rough that turns elegant under a full moon and firelight. The strings on his shirt are loose, dripping down his chest. Karl follows them; it’s hard to be embarrassed when there’s a mask covering his blush, and the darkness hides the way his hands shake sometimes.

Karl draws his eyes back up slowly. He’s not even sure if James can see them - beneath the fabric and the light, half of the guests and the ballroom is rendered into little more than shadow. Everyone feels untouchable here, he thinks. Even James, with his face half hidden behind white porcelain, looks unreal.

“Yeah,” he says, quieter than he wanted to. “And you’re James?”

James nods. “Yeah. You looked pretty lonely over here.”

“Did I?” Karl says. He holds his breath and his fingers tremble.

“You did,” James says. He seems nervous, the sort of nervous that’s shielded by confidence. Karl sees through it, sees the way James can’t keep his eye contact, and his fingers keep moving up and down the stem of his wine glass. “So here I am. I thought I’d make you less lonely.”

“Then, thank you,” Karl says. There’s a mantle to his left, and he balances his half empty glass on it. “You know, there’s not a lot of dancing going on for a masquerade.”

James halfway laughs. He puts his glass down next to Karl’s, so close the crystal touches. “What do you suggest we do about that, then?”

Karl shrugs. He turns back to watch Liaria and Sebastian, who have barely slowed. “Would you dance with me?” He asks.

“Do you even need to ask?”

When Karl holds out one hand, and James takes it, he feels his heart - whichever heart it may be - jump into his throat. He leads them out into the centre of the room, across fine carpet and smooth oiled wood. Past Liaria, who smiles at him gently. It might be a smile. Karl can barely see past the heat flickering on the edge of his vision.

“You lead?” James whispers, just below the music. Karl nods, lifting his right hand and holding it against James’s side. Like this, he can feel whenever James takes a breath, and he takes one now, inhaling deeply at Karl’s touch. “I’m not made of glass,” he murmurs, lips barely moving.

Karl hears him, flushes on the tips of his ears, tightens his grip against the cotton of James’s shirt and the warmth of his flesh, settling his fingertips against the small of his back. “How well do you dance?” he says, leaning closer until he’s certain all James will hear is him.

“Well enough,” James says. “You?”

“Just follow my steps,” Karl whispers. He moves James’s free hand to his shoulder, and lifts their joined ones up and out just slightly. He steps forward, too, close to the point their chests are touching, and the slide of silk on cotton is one he can’t get enough of. 

When he steps to the right, and James follows, and Karl spins them together in time with a crescendo, his cloak swirls out. It whirls back, wrapping around their legs, and makes James laugh low, under his breath. Karl feels it curl against his lips and follows it, laughing too as they fall back into the rhythm.

They spin again, and this time Karl really does squeeze against James’s waist, as the momentum pulls them so slightly apart. He guides them to pass by Sebastian and Liaria, and the hem of her dress brushes his ankles as Sebastian twirls her. Karl hears her laugh, louder than the crackling fires and the pulse rushing through his ears.

He steps backwards, then twice to the left, and James follows him easily. He keeps up easily, even when Karl starts stepping faster and spinning longer and wider, holding him at arm's length before pulling back in till their hearts beat next to each other. The music churns as Karl pushes James back, towards one of the fireplaces, and then spins them, so his back is to it instead and flame begins to lick at the hem of his cloak.

“I didn’t think you’d be so good,” James says. He’s on the cusp of out of breath, and his voice is still light in Karl’s ear. He hears the words again as he swallows them, squeezing once, then twice, on James’s hand.

“You underestimated me?”

James shakes his head. Karl sees the softness of the candlelight behind his hair. “Barely. It’s no surprise that a man like you is good at it.”

Karl twists James into another spin, standing still to let him duck under his arm. “A man like me?”

“A man like you,” James repeats. He spins once, twice, thrice, before placing his hand back on Karl’s shoulder and pulling them into another step. “Well dressed. High class. Good looking. You do fit a stereotype, you know.”

Karl laughs. He tries not to let show how out of place he is here; these are not steps he’s walked before. “You think I’m good looking?”

“I think anyone would be a fool not to,” James says. “Not many people could work cyan like you do.”

It’s a joke. It’s barely half a joke. There’s an undercurrent of genuinity that hits Karl deeply. It’s not a joke at his expense, but a compliment.

“You really think so?” he asks. He wonders how James feels, not being able to look him directly in the eye. He wonders if that makes it harder or easier to see him. James nods, and Karl can see half of the smile he adopts. “I suppose I should compliment you back.”

James just laughs, following Karl when he turns them around once and again, before sidestepping to the left and all down the edge of the ballroom. They pass Billiam, who tips his glass at them in a salute. Karl wonders what he’s toasting to, before his attention is taken again by the flush on James’s cheekbone.

“Stop looking at me like that,” James says. He speaks lower now, like his words are only for Karl to hear. It doesn’t matter that they’re a million miles away from the other guests, and that only he would be listening to James in the first place. 

“Like what?”

Karl slows their steps till they stand once again where they started, spinning James a final time before lifting the hand on his waist to the curve of his jaw. His fingertips tangle in the hairs at the back of James’s neck, thumb resting on the flesh of his cheek. James lifts his hand, too, resting it atop Karl’s.

“Like that,” he says, quiet, so quiet. “Like you want to kiss me.”

Karl smiles. He tastes sweet wine and fear and something more on the backs of his teeth. He moves until his nose can touch James’s, and he feels him breathe before he hears it. “What if I did? Would you let me?”

Karl watches as James bites the inside of his lip, and then nods, slowly. He leans nearer, nearer still, until Karl feels like he’s climbing into James’s skin.

There’s a terrible intimacy to it, held in the palms of heat and fire and tended to by swells of music and the top notes in the wine. When he kisses James, and he sees an entire lifetime in front of him, Karl slots himself in between James’s heart and his lungs. He feels, at once, like he’s returned.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope u liked this! i really really loved writing it, and like i said in the beginning notes, i had some beautiful artwork to be inspired by.
> 
> i would love to hear your thoughts and feelings. i tried to pack some interesting things into it, if you feel like searching for them.
> 
> thank you sm for reading! come say hello on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ERR0RGEO)!


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